


Longing: noun

by KoofinsArchive



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Lyrium Withdrawal, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Tension, all around fun stuff, but mostly just jump cuts of everyone in Skyhold shouting 'GET ON WITH IT', exasperated companions, pov switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-07 09:18:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12838080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoofinsArchive/pseuds/KoofinsArchive
Summary: On top of closing the Breach and stopping Corypheus, the Inquisition has to deal with these two idiots pining, for months, while being too embarrassed to do much about it until their friends have to step in. A slightly more lighthearted telling of events of the romantic, passionate, and mostly awkward nature.





	1. A Mouthful of Snow and Dirt

**Author's Note:**

> Quick character guide:  
> Keira Dunn is a human rogue and not the Inquisitor  
> The Inquisitor is Ardinine Adaar, a Qunari rogue, and owned/created by my wonderful friend Weird Hyenas!!!  
> UPDATE: Added a graphic violence tag bc it's gonna get stabby.

ˈlôNGiNG/

_noun_

  1. **1**.

a yearning desire.




 

 

_Haven, Frosback Mountains_

_Cullen_

 

 

When Cassandra had told him that the sole survivor of the event at the Conclave was a Qunari, he'd laughed at how the Maker must have had a sense of very sick and twisted humor. For surely nothing could be more strange than having the world calling a Qunari the Herald of Andraste, stranger still that she actually wanted to help their cause rather than convert everyone to the Qun.

 

But the Maker had more surprises in store for him, it seemed, and the one that changed it all came in the form of the Ardinine Adaar's closest friend, Keira Dunn. Daughter of a noblewoman in Ferelden, brought to them half-dead by a pair of elves who'd found her on the road to Haven.

 

He'd never expected to share more than pleasantries with her, 'The weather's dreadful out, isn't it?', 'Positively dreadful,' and all that after the Herald had introduced her as a 'personal advisor' during the first meeting in the war room. That had earned a few raised eyebrows, from himself and his fellow 'senior' advisors. Not only did she look barely a day over twenty, she'd only just been pulled from the brink of death after being set on by bandits, trying to bring supplies to their cause.

 

Cullen's expectations hadn't been high, beyond her being a human presence that Ardinine felt comfortable around. He'd only thought Keira was around to explain all of these 'weird human customs' to her. Surely she had no battle experience, safe behind the golden walls of her family's estate, no expertise to offer other than an easily accessible human element for the Herald to feel at ease around.

 

But she'd surprised him, surprised them all, when she'd shown a great deal of forethought and observation, lining up tasks for Ardinine to tackle during the first week she was sent to the Hinterlands. She'd gone with Ardinine on every task they'd listed, and were it not for how the pair of them worked together, the pace of things would have been much slower. Not even the retrieval of Keira's personal mount and half the goods that had been stolen from her slowed their progress, and the steadily growing number of agents, soldiers and refugees gave both name of the Herald and her human companion when asked who'd sent them to Haven.

 

Their dynamic was an interesting one, with Ardinine leading everything, making the hard decisions, and Keira was the convincing nudge that got the stubborn people moving in the right direction. Including the Herald. She had a way with people, and it was far more natural and warm than Josephine's games with others, or Ardinine's blunt ways. But she was a human with flaws, which became apparent the more he paid attention to her.

 

He hadn't planned on noticing her as much as he had in Haven. She often crossed the footpaths heading away from the Breach, past the training grounds early every four days to check her traps and catch what she could without. She was one of their best hunters, providing furs and meat for their ever growing cause. Beyond providing, however, she seemed to exist without being aware others were always around her during her morning treks. Outside of her dealings with the people the Herald had encountered during those first few months, she rarely spoke to anyone. Rarely made eye contact. Outwardly, she seemed cold. As though all that field work meant nothing the moment she was back in Haven territory.

 

Cullen found out firsthand that it wasn't coldness. It was raw, almost unbearable _awkwardness_ that made her so withdrawn.

 

He'd been tasked with flagging her down to mark down where she would set her next set of traps, as new recruits kept tripping over them and coming back with sprained ankles. Luckily none of her traps had teeth, so missing extremities weren't cause for alarm. Getting her attention with a few shouts had fallen on deaf ears, and he'd had to chase her quite a ways into the group of trees along the Western side of Haven's paths. In his plate he'd been sure she would have heard him, but she still seemed oblivious to him addressing her back from the base of a hill. Fed up with it, he'd sucked in a breath, and out came a shout more at home on the training grounds.

 

“Dunn, pull your head out of your arse and mark these blighted maps!” The volume of his voice was such that a few birds burst out of their perches with alarmed cries, one that Keira echoed as she twisted on one leg to face him. He would never forget how she'd tried to maintain her balance, looking more like a fish attempting to fly, arms flailing and body twisting in impossible ways.

 

And promptly fell, face first and rolling head over heels, down the hillside.

 

He'd tried not to laugh. Really, he had. His attempt had been so valiant that he was certain he'd pulled something, but the restraint had snapped when she reached the bottom of the hill. Stopped, flat on her stomach, and let out a very much alive, and resigned groan into the snow. It was just a chuckle at first, really, which turned into side splitting laughter when she lifted her head to give him a glare, with a mouth _full_ of snow and dirt. By the time he'd collected himself some, she'd managed to push herself up on her knees, brushing off snow from the front of her armor. And somehow he'd known he should have averted his gaze, but sure enough, when he looked her in the face again, she--

 

“Coh-magh-hur.” Still with a mouthful of dirty slush, she greeted him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Cullen had nearly _pissed_ himself at that point, laughing so hard it made him double over. While gasping for breath he heard her begin to spit out the melting snow, which made him laugh even _more_ , until his eyes stung and he realized he'd started crying. “Right. Well, if that's to be the last piece of paper I'll be writing on, I'd like to give all of my worldly possessions to the Commander. Who will be buried shortly after me, since I've apparently killed him.”

 

“I – am _so_ sorry,” he gasped out.

 

“No you're not,” she scoffed, obviously teasing, and when his vision cleared he saw her lying on her back in the snow this time, staring up through the canopy with her arms and legs spread out. “A good, hard laugh is never something to be sorry about. And here I thought you weren't capable of it.”

 

“Well, let that be a display of just how capable I am,” he said between trying to catch his breath. “Oh, Maker's Breath. I was certain you'd heard me.”

 

“Probably did, I just....you know. Forgot.”

 

“Forgot? I've been following you since the gates!”

 

“I wasn't awake until just now,” she explained, pointing up at the top of the hill and letting her arm flop back down into the snow, “and now, I am dead. Please send my things to my mother, I'm sure she'll be pleased to know I died as I lived: tired, and an embarrassment.”

 

“Oh, please, you're not dying.” He was only mildly shocked that he'd taken up teasing her right back. Until she remained perfectly still for a little _too_ long, and his heart promptly dropped down to the soles of his boots. “Lady Dunn? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?” When she didn't answer him, he stepped up to stand over her from her side, and gave her a once-over. This had probably been the first time since that first meeting he'd gotten a good look at her. Black hair, light green eyes, a few freckles on a youthful face. Not quite the build he was used to on a noblewoman, strong arms, powerful legs and a pear shaped figure. Nothing _looked_ broken, but she still hadn't answered him.“Lady Dunn?”

 

Her name seemed to make her eyes snap back into focus, and with a start she frowned up at him.

 

“Commander,” she said, pleasantly, “did you know that these trees can live for years even if they're hollow?”

 

“....er.”

 

“Saw one get struck by lightning back home and the core caught fire,” as she went on she reached out, and rather than take his extended hand to help her to her feet she grabbed the maps and chalk stub he'd been holding, still lying on her back as she began marking locations on the parchment. “But the tree healed, and lived for a good ten years after that. Only died when my mother had it cut down. Said it was ruining the scenery.” When she handed the papers back to him, he still stared at her, utterly confused as she went on. “Most trees can actually be healthier after that, and can actually grow considerably faster.”

 

“Lady Dunn?” he asked after a long, thick silence.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Did you hit your head on the way down?”

 

“Sadly, no, because a concussion would be preferable to this mortifying display on my part. Now if you'll excuse me, you have people to train, and I'm going to get an early start on letting the elements take me.” The entire time she stared up and past him, her cheeks slowly turning pink, and Cullen wondered if he'd ever felt more awkward in his entire _life_. The icing on the cake was when her eyes focused on him and said quite conversationally, “You know you're really quite literally the most handsome man I think I've ever met and that is frankly terrifying to me, Commander, and the whole laughing thing isn't helping matters.” She paused as he felt heat flooding his face from jawline to hairline, and added, “That scar is _really_ dashing, too.”

 

“I-I...er, I'm....right.” What else could he say to that?! There he was, an ex-Templar with no titles or connections outside the Inquisition, receiving one of the most out of place compliments from a woman of Fereldan noble birth and the Herald's personal advisor. You could practically taste the awkward tension between them as he shoved the maps into his cloak, and hauled her up onto her feet. To his utter mortification they held eye contact for far longer than was likely normal for two strangers, both entering into a silent pact to _never speak on this exchange ever again on pain of death_. “Right.” With a nod he turned on his heel, and marched off.

 

And as soon as he was sure he was out of earshot he let out a long groan, one that carried a single note of dread. The next surprise, it seemed, was how shocked he was to find he'd _liked_ those weird compliments coming from her.

 

Well, at least his recruits wouldn't get caught in her traps for a week. He didn't even want to begin to think about the next time he'd have to track her down for that.

 

\- - - - - -

_Haven, Frosback Mountains_

_Keira_

 

“Trees, Keira? Really?”

 

“Andraste's left tit, Ardi, will you _drop_ it?” Keira huffed, shoving the hair out of her face as she shouldered her traveling pack. After the terribly mortifying exchange with the Commander, she'd gone straight to Cassandra, begging her to give Ardinine something, _anything_ to get them out of Haven within the hour. It had caused the Seeker some concern, and sadly for Keira she'd had to wait an agonizing _four_ hours for a legitimate chance to escape to the Hinterlands. As they'd been preparing their gear, Ardinine had finally wheedled out of her why Keira was in such a rush, much to the amusement of their traveling party for the next week and a half.

 

“Honestly I'm more interested in hearing the details of what she said to Curly that she's being so tight lipped about,” Varric chuckled at her side. The glare she'd aimed his way did nothing to wipe the grin off his face, much to her frustration. “Hey, it makes for good material if I ever get back into continuing that romance serial again.”

 

At the gates, Keira heard someone take in a sharp breath, and aimed her _don't you start_ glower at Cassandra. Cassandra, Ardinine and Keira had bonded together, in secret, over said romance novels, and the look in Cassandra's eyes practically _begged_ her to tell Varric everything.

 

“Much as I know you'd enjoy embellishing on me making myself out to be an even greater idiot than I already am to Cullen, that will be going with me to my grave.” Keira stared out at the path leading out of the village. “Probably a few days into this journey, I'm hoping.”

 

“Please, don't be so dramatic,” Ardinine teased. She slung an arm over Keira's shoulders as they filed out of the village, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You can tell me everything, though. I promise to laugh only a little. I'm _dying_ to hear what you said.”

 

“Then I guess you'll be dying for a lifetime, Ardi.”

 

“Darling dearest, you are so cruel.”

 

“If you truly think so, dearest darling, I cannot stop you.”

 

They stared one another down for a beat, and promptly laughed until their sides were sore as their horses were brought to them. As they rode out to the Hinterlands once more, Keira mused about how strange it had been that she'd somehow found such a close and warm friendship on the heels of such a tragic event for Thedas.

 

She'd already lost one in the Conclave. It seemed fitting that whatever was pulling all the cosmic strings had supplied her with someone to occupy half the empty space left behind.

 

Their rides rarely continued in silence. Ardinine had been full of so many questions for her during the first few days they'd known each other, having lived in such an isolated world with just her parents in the Free Marches. The few times she'd encountered humans before being hired to guard the Conclave, anyone who _wasn't_ a Qunari had treated her with only distrust. She knew enough about them to get by, but some of the smaller details had never quite made sense to her. But when she explained them, they did, and they'd been rather inseparable since. When there was silence between them, it was comfortable, amiable, which was a rarity for Keira around...well, most anybody, really.

 

But when they weren't silent, the conversation was always lively.

 

“So, how _did_ you fall down that hill, anyway?” Ardinine pressed. Keira groaned and nudged with her heels for her mare to move a little faster, and with a filthy chuckle Ardinine not only outpaced her, but crossed over in front of her so she could come to Keira's other side. “C'mon, you said it was pretty hilarious yourself.”

 

“It was,” she sighed, grinning ruefully at Ardinine. “Well, you know I haven't been sleeping well...at all.”

 

“I wasn't aware you even needed sleep.”

 

“Well, apparently I _do_ , in order to function like a normal human being around unjustifiably handsome men in full plate armor.”

 

“Can I use that line?” Varric called somewhere behind them. Keira ignored him as she continued.

 

“I'm not used to waking up at these hours, unfortunately. Mother rarely tolerated me setting traps once every few months, let alone cycling through them every week. I'm so used to being awake hours after I should have turned in to be able to function normally during my rounds, so I feel like I'm dead.”

 

“You looked like you were dead,” Ardinine observed.

 

“Thank you, that makes me feel so much better.” The two snickered at one another. “I was just going through the motions when he shouts at me to pull my head out of my arse–”

 

“Commander Cullen said that to you?!” Cassandra's voice was utterly scandalized to her unoccupied side, her eyes wide with horror. “I cannot believe he would do such a thing.”

 

“Well, he did, not that I blame him. He must've followed me for a good half hour before I actually heard him.” She sat through the amusement of her companions until it had calmed some, before continuing. “I must have been standing on an ice patch from the last time it rained, because one moment I was fine up at the top of the hill, the next moment I have a mouth full of snow and dirt at the Commander's feet.” She sucked in a breath and puffed out her cheeks to illustrate just how ridiculous she must have looked, nearly causing Varric to fall out of his saddle, leaving Ardinine in hysterics while Cassandra tried not to laugh. Keira let the air in her mouth out with a chuckle of her own. “And now you know why I'm going to die from sheer embarrassment, slowly, painfully, and must avoid the Commander at all costs until the Breach is sealed.”

 

“Oh as if the pressure wasn't _already_ immense beyond comprehension, now I've got your life riding on my back.”

 

“Maybe I can do something so awkward the Breach will shuffle out of existence to avoid being near me?” Keira suggested.

 

“Were it only that simple,” Cassandra said. The mood began to darken and Keira, scrambling to keep it light to withstand the rest of their journey, pulled on a memory to continue the conversation.

 

“Oh, did I ever tell you how I once dropped a bowl full of pig guts on the Hero of Ferelden's boots?”

 

“You're kidding.” Varric stared at her in disbelief, and Keira nodded emphatically.

 

“It's true! Our families knew each other before the Blight, and I remember I'd been helping the cooks as my mother gave her and Fergus a tour. So I hear the name 'Cousland' and, being a child with the attention span of a flea, I wheel around to introduce myself and ask them about their castle and what it's like, and an entire _bowl full of pig guts_ slips out of my hands and right onto the future Queen of Ferelden's brand new nugskin boots.”

 

Their laughter echoed off the hills, warming her despite the chill of the mountains.

 

So the journey went, Keira gleefully recounting the many reasons why her mother had been loathe to set her loose in court. Cassandra and Adrinine both declared their favorite was the telling of how she'd 'accidentally' broken an arl's son's nose, while Varric's was the time she'd nearly had her hand cut off when a merchant accused her of stealing an apple, only for her to throw the rotten fruit in his face and end up with her family banned from returning.

 

It was during this trek that they passed by a familiar series of footpaths. Keira drew back on the reins when she saw a familiar figure heading further up the mountain. She waved the rest of the party on, as they'd almost reached the Outskirts, and turned her mare's course to the retreating form of Solas. Hearing her approach, the apostate turned to watch her as she closed the distance between them. Sliding off her horse, Keira left her to graze around the underbrush.

 

“Lady Dunn,” Solas said by way of greeting.

 

“You can call me Keira, Solas,” Keira responded. She grinned at his impassive stare as she approached him. “We're heading into the Hinterlands for a time. I was wondering where you'd gone off too.”

 

“So soon? Your party was gone not but a fortnight before.” He wandered forward and Keira kept pace with him easily. “The Herald is doing well for herself, for the Inquisition. She must make a decision soon, however. Every day we leave the Breach open, the more its magic will alter the fabric of this world. And there is also the matter of finding what caused it.”

 

“She knows.” Keira paused. “We all do.”

 

“You have been a positive influence on her,” he observed. Keira scoffed lightly at that, and he gave her a strange look. “Ardinine is a capable woman, but you are the one who reminds her of what is important. This Breach affects everyone, even those who refuse to involve themselves directly with the Inquisition.”

 

“To be fair, if I hadn't seen it for myself I probably wouldn't involve myself directly,” she admitted at length. Solas chuckled softly, and she shrugged. “I was happy to stay at home and read the days away and leave the estate in my mother's hands. Always planned on running away with – ...well, on running out.”

 

“When responsibility is thrust upon a person, it can either bring out the best or the worst in them,” Solas pointed out. “Fate seemed to have something else for you in any case. The people here are better for it.”

 

“Thank you, Solas,” Keira said.

 

“You are quite welcome.” He stared at her for a time, and she was struck, not for the first time, by the sensation of being watched by something she couldn't see, but could feel. The silence stretched on, and his voice was gentler than a moment before when he continued. “The dreams are troubling you again?”

 

“I'm always troubled by something,” she scoffed. His stare became slightly exasperated and she sighed. “Yes. I keep... _feeling_ him. I don't think he can see me.” She looked away, the pain too new and too sharp to focus on another person. “But I almost wish he could.”

 

“They are but memories of someone who is gone, Keira. He cannot see that which was not seen. And the other dreams?” She could feel him staring at her scars, the ones she'd only shown to Ardinine, the ones only Solas had discovered when he'd been tasked with healing her. “Do they trouble you as well?”

 

“It's worse here,” she answered.

 

“Likely due to how close we are to the Veil.” He pulled a small flask from the satchel at his side. “It took me some time to locate these herbs. They should calm the dreams, at the very least.”

 

“Thank you, Solas. Really.” She grinned ruefully at him as she returned to her horse to put the flask away. “It's kind of you to help a shem like me.”

 

“I've no use for words like those, and we both know the Herald requested my assistance with this. If she is to ignore me altogether otherwise, I am able to do this much.” There was a bitterness in his tone that was getting old, and Keira winced. Both Solas and Ardinine did not understand how she could be in the company of the other, and while not entirely antagonistic towards one another, there was plenty of distrust. Keira held out hope that the miscommunication could be solved, but with both of them being as stubborn as mules, it was unlikely she would ever get them to see eye to eye. _If only you two knew that's something that_ _ **also**_ _keeps me awake at night_. “Inform me if there are any changes in these dreams.” He paused as Keira took that as a sign that he was taking his leave, mounting her horse again. “Perhaps it will help you from making a fool of yourself in front of the Commander again. Yes?”

 

Keira's head snapped round to stare at the rogue mage, but in that moment he seemed to melt into the forest. Despite her confusion about how he'd found out about her mortifying experience, she laughed as she rode off.

 

“There you are,” Varric greeted her once she'd reached them. “We've all been bored to tears without those stories of yours.”

 

“Have you?” Keira asked, glancing at each of her companions in turn. They each looked appropriately miserable, “Alright. Well, let's see...oh, how about the time I tripped on a curtain and exposed a couple half naked in an alcove to a party full of three different noble families?”

 

“You humans have to have the worst timing for when you decide to fuck,” Ardinine snorted, earning laughter from Keira and Varric, and a few offended noises from Cassandra. “Alright, tell us all the gory details.”

 

“Don't skim, I think Cassandra might boil in her armor!”

 

“That would make an interesting story!”

 

“Let me start before she kills us all!” Keira swatted at Varric as she began. “So, we'd all just finished desert, and everyone's a little drunk, right? Perfect time for a few couples to slip away! Little did they know I'd shown up to foil them all.”

 

And so it went. That first night, Keira was happily too exhausted to have any bad dreams, though she kept thinking of amber eyes and broad shoulders framed by a mane of reds and deep browns....

 


	2. Ass On His Shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions have to be made, a new friend is met, and Keira gets a little dark. A few people make assumptions, pants are lost, and the Chancellor gets his head bitten off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its gonna get stabby and angsty for this chapter, folks. We'll enjoy a few chuckles, but a quick warning: this chapter contains the memories of one character reliving violent childhood trauma. Proving that I am the absolute worst to mine and my friend's characters. Speaking of! A quick pronunciation guide:  
> Keira: keer-AH or key-RUH. (Meaning: Dusky, dark haired.)  
> Ardinine: ar-DEH-nine. (Meaning: stubborn, unable to surrender, ferocious.)

re· morse

rəˈmôrs/

 _noun_  
deep regret or guilt for a wrong committed.

 

 

_Haven, Frostback Mountains  
Cullen_

Templar life had always been about routine. Hours of prayer, training, marching and guarding, day in and day out. Cullen could go months, and even went a whole year when he became used to the routine without it really changing. The time seemed to pass in a slow moving blur of the same faces, the same motions, the same words. And linking them all together was the steady hum of lyrium in his blood.

 

But then something would happen to break the routine, and pull him violently to exist in the present, rather than blurring his very identity in a haze of blue and crackling energy. Usually these events were terrible, leaving scars both mental and physical that would always serve as anchors to the present. Filling him with doubts. Making him question.

 

But what made him question even more was when his faith was tested in more...pleasant ways.

 

For the next few weeks, the business of training recruits and maintaining the upkeep of the village with his men went by as they normally did. As if there was any modicum of normalcy to be found here. Every day he caught himself lost in himself, as he stared at the Breach, heard the distant explosions of its massive energy as the Fade attempted to rip its way through into reality.

 

And each day, he prayed that the Maker would guide the Herald, and the Inquisition, in the direction they needed to go in order to rid the world of the threat the Breach posed. Nothing was certain or normal anymore, reports coming in daily that more and more settlements were being set upon by demons. Fights were breaking out in peaceful villages between roaming mages and Templars, ending in the deaths of innocents. Fear and anger ruled, and even among his own men fights were breaking out.

 

It all came to a head when the Chancellor returned. A group of Templars and mages had been on the verge of an all out brawl when the man showed back up, only serving to sour Cullen's mood even further.

 

“Ah, Chancellor.” The Herald appeared just as Cullen dispersed the crowd the Chancellor attempted to incite even further, towering over the man with a pleasant expression that did not meet her eyes. “So good of you to come back.”

 

“Playing coy will get you nowhere, qunari,” the man spat out. Hanging back a few paces but within earshot, Cullen noticed Ardinine's ever present companion stiffen with her back to them.

 

“At least you've noticed!” The statuesque woman's tone was all pleasantries and charm, quite changed from her typically more blunt words. “The last time we spoke I believe you questioned whether I was capable of detecting sarcasm. Now _we_ know you can recognize when someone's being coy!”

 

“I've no time for this,” the Chancellor snapped. “I did not abandon my duties to be spoken to with such insolence.

 

“Some duties.” Keira's voice was thick with boredom as she approached, her eyes focused on the Chancellor with harsh scrutiny. “I'm sure the amount of letters you have to sign while your underpaid servants write them for you must tire your old wrist out _terribly_.”

 

“I do not have the time nor the patience to educate you on responsibility, including that which you abandoned to play at trying to become a hero,” Chancellor Roderick said coldly, apparently deeply affected, judging by the pure rage in his eyes. “Much less a woman who believes her voice holds any weight in my conversation with your _Templar_ , who understands the importance of the Order.”

 

To his shame, Cullen felt a thread of understanding for the Chancellor’s words. The wounds Keira often returned with from the Hinterlands spoke volumes of inexperience, and he himself had wondered once or twice if she realized the importance of the Inquisition or the reputation of the Herald. She laughed too easily, carried herself with an air of nonchalance and ease that seemed out of place among her peers.

 

Regardless, the insults rankled him, and he inhaled sharply to reprimand the man. Ardinine took a step forward, obviously intent of coming to her friend’s defense, but the subject of Roderick’s tongue lashing quickly rose to her own defense with a casual question.

 

“Chancellor, can I make a suggestion?” The silent, offended glower the man aimed her way was all the opening she apparently needed. “You seem to have a problem listening to reason, so you may want to see a healer to help them pull your head out of your arse.”

 

“What—I’ve never!! You!” The man spluttered as red colored his cheeks, and she could see him shaking with rage. “Of all the _cheek_!”

 

“Yes, yours,” Keira said conversationally amid the stifled snickers and scandalized gasps of those around her. Cullen had a hard time keeping his face neutral, grinding his teeth to hide his amusement. After their last encounter, he was certain laughing now might be disastrous, and he honestly wanted to let Chancellor Roderick get his just deserts. “One to each shoulder, covering your ears. But I think you’ve pulled one out, so _listen_.” All conversational insult gone from her voice, replaced by an undercurrent of righteous anger that Cullen could feel. “I know my place. I know it’s here, making sure that when I am able to return to my duties, it’s to a home I can grow fat and old in. Not cower and wait for that,” she jabbed a finger in the direction of the breach, “to reach me in a matter of weeks, months, years. You speak to me of station and things you assume I do not understand, but I knew your place in the Chantry, just like everyone else does.

 

“You speak of responsibility as if I have shirked mine, knowing you have abandoned yours with glee in the face of this tragedy. You stand there and stamp your feet, shrieking like a petulant child for ‘justice’ on the corpse of Justinia, as if her death granted you some power. You dishonor her by carrying on so, rather than trying to warn the people of Ferelden of the threat _looming in the fucking sky_ , thinking turning over the Herald and seizing power from behind a desk will curry favor with the people. How long do you suppose that might carry on, as that continues to spit out demons, and rifts, and you were the one to shackle the only hand capable of stopping it?”

 

He'd broken up four fights in the past week. Gone through sixteen different formation training sessions with the troops. Been up to his neck in parchment to read over, sign, sign again, _and again_. It was challenging work, work he welcomed, but without the lyrium in his blood everything seemed to drag on forever.

 

But the look on the Chancellor's face as he was left, stunned to silence by the daughter of a Bann who should have always shown him deference and respect. The moment went by far too quickly for his liking, a moment he would have liked to savor and linger in. Even if it meant suffering through the company of the Chancellor, so long as Keira had more valid and well deserved insults to fling at him.

 

There was also the added benefit of watching her. Something he'd been trying _not_ to do the entire time she'd been party to the heated 'discussion,' but by the time she'd gone silent he was staring and unable to place his attention elsewhere. And he began to notice _more_ details about her, adding to the list of ones he'd caught himself being distracted by infrequently. What she lacked in apparent battle experience she made up for in presence alone, apparently, when she was good and angry enough.. She was shaking, her brow pinched in a glare that radiated a righteous anger that could strike a twinge fear into even the most hardened of men. The phrase 'if looks could kill' seemed epitomized in her stare down with the Chancellor, and he silently asked that the Maker have mercy on him if _he_ were ever on the receiving end of that deadly glower.

 

“Well I think that's about enough for the battle of wits, I think we know who our winner is,” Ardinine announced, and steered Keira so she was facing the doors of the Chantry. “Commander, when you've concluded your business here, come join us at the war table.” Her smile was all teeth as she locked eyes with Chancellor Roderick, “Always a pleasure, sir. Try not to step in any cow shit on the way out.” With that she walked the noblewoman into the Chantry, head held high and hands tightly grasping Keira. Likely to keep her from resorting to showing the Chancellor what she _really_ thought of him.

 

“Well,” Cullen said, finally failing to hide his amusement and satisfaction as he met the furious glower of the older man. “I'm sure you've got a very strong letter to sign about all this. Good day, Chancellor.”

 

If only his routines had _always_ featured fiery tempered women biting the heads off of Chantry men, maybe his life would have been a trifle more enjoyable as a Templar.

 

 

_Val Royeaux, Orlais  
_ _Keira_

 

In the two months since her involvement with the budding Inquisition had begun, she discovered two things.

 

First: Despite her hatred and emphatic insistence that she not be involved in politics and religion, Keira could not escape them. Her run-in with Chancellor Roderick had proved that much, and she was _still_ seething, days later.

 

Second: Trying to avoid running into Cullen after her mortifying display was harder than she'd thought. If not outright impossible. Though she had to admit, the impressed look he'd given her while he'd witnessed her gutting the Chancellor had been worth it. It might've even made her a little bit giddy. Which involved a lot of guilt on her part. But that third thing wasn't supposed to have any of her attention, so why would she feel anything about it?

 

While Ardinine and Cassandra had gone to speak to the dazed Revered Mother Hevara, she and Varric hung back, watching the scene play out in the Summer Bazaar. Keira never liked being in the center of things unless called, and Varric likely because most of those in attendance of the Revered Mother's call for the Herald's arrest had given him quite a few scrutinizing looks.

 

Probably distracted by the chest hair, Keira mused.

 

“You look uneasy,” Varric observed at her side. Keira shifted her weight anxiously, hoping Varric would drop the subject if she kept silent. But he was in one of his persistent moods, and nudged her with an elbow. “What? Not fond of the religious types?”

 

Giving him a sidelong glance, Keira smirked. “See you heard about my conversation with the Chancellor,” she hummed thoughtfully.

 

“Are you kidding? It's all anyone in Haven talked about before we left. Any particular reason, or do you just hate the guy?”

 

“I don't think anyone likes old Roderick,” she said thoughtfully. “But if you want an honest answer? I don't take to things forced on me by tradition. I am ever the non-believing Andrastian, I'm afraid.”

 

“I dunno,” Varric mused as they followed behind Cassandra. “Seems like it's kind of present in our day-to-day now, doesn't it?”

 

“You don't seem the religious type, Varric.”

 

“Ardinine survived the explosion at the Conclave, came out of the Fade _alive_ , and she's a Qunari? There's gotta be some higher power at work there, at least from where I'm standing.” Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of him squinting at her, and kept her silence until he pressed on. “Aren't all Fereldan noble women supposed to be just as faithful as their devout noble mothers are?”

 

“In theory.” She met his gaze directly, his eyes searching her for anything. “That's a bit of a generalization I'm not too fond of falling into. Our aversion to giant rats in our cellars? Yes, that's true, about all of us. How we'd sooner die for our Mabari than let them suffer a thorn in it's paw? Also true. But you'd have more luck finding me in a Chantry than you would telling Ardinine dragons aren't as interesting as she thinks they are.”

 

“So...not unless the Fade freezes over?”

 

“Wholly and completely.”

 

“Eh, fair enough,” Varric conceded. “But you gotta admit, something big is going on. You're part of that something now, whether you like it or not.”

 

He was right, of course. Keira knew that well enough. But she also knew it was less about doing something to appease the Maker than it was about trying to set the world right. It's what _he_ would have wanted. Likely what he would have done, and to hell with the consequences.

 

As the rest of the group spoke concluded their business with the Revered Mother, Keira held back. Pensive, she watched them and felt an invisible, nagging weight begin to press in on her. Her involvement in the Inquisition had not yet fully sunk in. Sometimes she found herself lost in her own thoughts and shock, wondering _why_ she'd gotten herself into this mess.

 

She really needn't look far to find all the reason why. Her reasons were sometimes entirely selfish. She was here because she'd wanted out, had been looking for an open window to jump out of her life for years. And now, it almost felt personal.

 

 

Nights were the worst, reliving the moments she'd taken for granted, feeling in dreams that there was a rush to everything. These dreams bled into the others, and it was easy to turn the blame for her friends death on an entity. She imagined it was the same who'd been present at the conclave during Justinia's death, and oh, did she want him to _suffer_ for it. Not just for him. For all of them.

 

It was easy to think only of her own loss. Each day it became less and less about her own, however, and more about the loss of others. The unknown element, the fear, the potential that they could lose their world. There was so little she could do for them, that she could do for _anyone_ , and some days she could barely move because of the guilt.

 

It was in Ardinine she found comfort, Ardinine who's presence had offered a safe place for her to fall. Ardinine who wept with her, confessing that she had _no_ idea what she was doing, how she was going to stop this from happening everywhere. How much she wanted to stop it, to stop anyone from hurting as many people as the event had, to find justice for those who'd been taken.

 

When she'd been attacked by bandits while heading towards Haven, she'd expected to die. Instead, she'd woken up to find a Qunari standing over her, a Qunari who revealed herself to be the Herald of Andraste. It hadn't been on purpose, on either one of their parts. It almost seemed unnatural to her that Ardinine had been so quick, and so easy to occupy some of the space left by her friend. But maybe Varric was right. Maybe something bigger was at work here, because Keira couldn't imagine a world without being Ardinine's friend, and knew from the 'Herald's' admission that neither could she.

 

With a low, dirty chuckle, Keira wondered how her mother would take the news that Keira's closest friend was a Qunari that half the continent had taken to calling the 'Herald of Andraste.'

 

“Copper for your thoughts?” Ardinine's voice pulled her from her own mind, and Keira focused on the tall woman who'd leaned against the pillar Keira had crouched next to. A glance up showed Ardinine's expression was tight, obviously deep in thought about something that she wasn't too pleased about.

 

“Yours first, dearest darling,” she said with a grunt as she stood. The Qunari extended an arm, and without thought Keira leaned into the Ardinine's side, sliding her arm around her waist. Ardinine huffed quietly into her hair as they stared out at the Orlesians still milling about the Summer Bazaar.

 

“Sometimes it frightens me how well you know me, darling dearest,” her friend mused. She was silent for a time, her fingers idly tracing the leather pauldron on Keira's shoulder. “I don't much like our options so far.”

 

“Aye,” Keira sighed, gently squeezing at her friend's side. “Templars seem kind of stuck up their own arse here, don't they?”

 

“Are they like that everywhere? The ones from the Conclave could be a little pissy, but...not like this.”

 

“Some people let a little power and praise get their heads all swollen and bloated, regardless of what they're doing with their lives and all the lives dependent on them,” Keira sighed. Angling her head back, she studied her friend's pensive face. Silver piercings on her lips and ears spoke volumes of how little she cared for societal standards, but the concern deep in her fiery gaze gave away how much she cared about _saving_ society. Keira's chest tightened, not for the first time feeling guilt that so much had been dropped on Ardinine's shoulders. Capable or not, it seemed unfair to her. Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to her friend's cheek. “You're not like that. You'll never be like that.”

 

“Thank you, Keira,” Ardinine said, eyes shining a little too bright. With a harsh cough she released Keira to rub at her eyes, mumbling about 'dust' as they were joined by Cassandra and Varric. “So, I'm beginning to lose faith in these Templars,” she announced to the group. Keira winced when she noted Cassandra's brows knit together, and was thoroughly shocked when Ardinine reached out and cupped the Seeker's face in her hands. “But don't you worry your beautiful face about that, Cassandra. I'll help them, whenever I can, so long as they're not pompous assholes like that Lord Seeker.”

 

“I-I–“ Cassandra shut her mouth with an audible snap as Ardinine leaned in close, their foreheads almost touching as a truly wicked grin curved her dark lips.

 

“You're so cute when you blush, Seeker,” Ardinine purred, her fingers sliding down her advisor's face gently as she released her. It took all of her will power and biting the inside of her cheek not to grin like a lunatic at the display, having to bite into her fist when Ardinine left Cassandra stunned and rooted to the spot. Even if she lacked some social skills, Ardinine certainly had a way with flirting with those she admired.

 

“Am I dreaming right now? Pinch me, I must be dreaming,” Varric said as he fell back into step at Keira's side in a hissed tone. “She _does_ know Cassandra doesn't really 'aim her sword that way,' right?”

 

“Absolutely,” Keira said in an equally hushed tone. They followed behind Ardinine, leaving Cassandra to catch up with them whenever her brain caught up to her, but not before Keira gave her a sly grin in passing. She leaned down to whisper in Varric's ear, “Doesn't stop her from having some fun, though. You have to admit, it's _really_ nice to watch.”

 

The familiar 'THOK' of an arrow hitting the cobblestone sounded just before Ardinine's feet. For a moment they all stared at it in silence, before Ardinine swooped down on the loosed arrow before them. Pebbles clattered against the ruined stone as Ardinine wrenched the arrow out from its mark, her gaze scouring the bazaar for a potential source.

 

“Ardi,” Keira said, eyeing the shaft of the arrow closely, “there's a note.”

 

Scanning over the note, Ardinine turned to them with a broad grin. “Well, looks like we're not going home without a fight.” She slung an arm around Keira's shoulders, ruffling her hair. “And here I thought we'd go this whole trip being _bored_ to tears!”

 

\- - - -

 

Night fell by the time that 'fight' came to them. Truth be told, it was more of an all out back alley brawl. Following a strange scavenger hunt for 'red things' throughout the bazaar, leading to one quick skirmish that Ardinine and Cassandra powered through within minutes. Their reward was an Orlesian mage launching fireballs at their heads, nearly singeing Varric's chest hair as it sailed past.

 

“What in the absolute _fuck_ is this?!” Ardinine demanded. The Orlesian had just been gearing up for another tirade, and likely another volley of fireballs, when out of the shadows a slim figure approached.

 

“Just say, 'what,'” the woman's voice rang out in the quiet of the alley, a child's dare that made Keira's curiosity pique as she notched an arrow. Took aim, and.

 

“What is the meaning of th–“

 

Released. It was a perfect shot, if not a little overkill. Straight through the bastard's teeth and stopping when the fletching caught the lip of his mask. Keira winced behind Varric, who brought up the rear, even as she let out a nervous giggle. Despite the man's quick death, she had to admit the strange woman had decent timing.

 

“See? That one knows,” the woman declared. “Rich tits, am I right?!” They watched in stunned silence as she retrieved her arrow with a disgusted sound. “Always goin' on about shit they don't deserve. 'Blah blah _blah!_ Obey me, arrow in my face!'”

 

“What is this?” Varric hissed at her as the group approached the woman.

 

“What, this? This is you, after finding all the notes and the baddies comin' after you. And you, you're the...oh, you're...wow.” Keira's eyebrows raised as the elven archer tilted her head back to meet Ardinine's eyes. She knew that look, and couldn't really blame her. Ardinine _was_ an attractive woman. “Heard about your people. But that's all good, right? You're the Herald thingy! Wait....” She leaned over to eye the rest of the group behind Ardinine. “She _is_ the Herald thingy, right? Glowing hand? Kills demons?”

 

“Yes, I am the Herald, hello nice to meet you, what _is_ this, exactly?” Ardinine asked in rapid succession.

 

“This is cover, to keep all of you from getting' stabbed and whatnot, get behind it.”

 

“I'm aware of what cover is – wait. Why do we need to get to cover?”

 

“For reinforcements!” She explained it as though it were plain as the horns on Ardinine's head, wheeling to face a stairwell leading to the back door of one of the many buildings towering around them. “Don't worry, yeah? I've already taken care of their equipment.” She glanced over one shoulder at Keira, her nose wrinkling in pure mischievous delight. “ _They've got no breeches_.”

 

“Oh, I think I'm going to like you,” Keira said, laughing in spite of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

 

Reinforcements did indeed arrive, en force. And with it, the grim realization that the past few weeks spent fighting mercenaries from a distance hadn't done much to help Keira's abilities sharpen. That much became very apparent when one of the thugs they encountered cornered her.

 

In books she'd read, the kind that tended to romanticize a battle, time was always written as 'slowing down.' But the reality of it was that everything moved far too quickly for her to be able to do much of anything except try to run, and ultimately fail, by the time the first strike came slashing down at her.

 

The bow knocked from her hands, she attempted to dodge again, only to be knocked on her back with a fist to her right eye. Light and pain dominated every sense, and she was only dully aware of the fact that she should probably try to move. So when the next blow came, she only managed to avoid the sword plunging into her heart, instead sinking through her shoulder and into the stonework below. Effectively pinning her.

 

The other thing she'd never seen written about in all the books she'd read was the discomfort. Pain, yes, though not at the scale she experienced it at. But being so completely aware of the sword's tip punching its way through skin, sinking into muscle and ripping through tendon, and grating through bone so violently she felt it in the core of every other bone in her body. And not only did she have to experience this once, but twice as the sword sank all the way through. Her entire existence spiraled into these sensations, the _wrongness_ of a blade in her body.

 

And just like that, everything came flooding back.

 

_A knife. He's got a knife. Touching my hair like he always does, but he's got a knife –_

 

_Where's Mum? Father where's Mum? Why's that man got the sun on his face? He's got a knife –_

 

_Screams. Everything burns, the ocean is roaring in her skull, pounding relentlessly in her head, threatening to make it burst from the inside out, the skin around her ear has gotten so cold and there's blood and fire. Where's the knife–_

 

_I want my Mum I want my Mum please stop you're hurting me I want my Mum, don't use the knife again–_

 

_Using it again. The other side now, more practiced, but far worse because the skin doesn't go cold, and her head is on fire, and the knife is in her father's hands, it's always been in his hands –_

 

When the memory faded, blood pouring down her wrist. She followed the rivulets of blood up to the hilt of the dagger she rarely used in her hand, the blade plunged in deep in at an upward angle in the man's gut. His attention was focused on his own blood, thick and seeping into her glove so her grip faltered, and the man slumped off to the side of her. Her eyes were glued to his face as he fell onto his side next to her.

 

And _that_ , she decided, was the worst of it. It wasn't the pain in her entire body that sucked all the air out of her lungs that was bad. It was watching the man die next to her. The life didn't just leave his gaze. His eyes didn't go dead. They still reflected the light of the moon and the lamp fires, twitched in the final throes of life.

 

Glowing red filled her vision, and she felt the echoes of crackling energy in her blood. It warmed her body, but everything still hurt, and she couldn't move her arm or see out of her right eye. Keira ground out a long, painful groan from between her teeth. The taste of elfroot and water lilies flooded her mouth, making her grimace as her legs kicked and twitched against the pain. Her arm refused to work, and she could barely see, but all she could think about was how slowly the life had left that man.

 

“Dammit, Keira,” Ardinine hissed over her, her words not really making sense. But her presence was enough that Keira's focus for her to see her struggling with her thick leather overcoat. It wasn't until the garment twice her size was maneuvered around her that her body was cold, and getting colder by the second. Her vision swam between barely focused and completely black, and she only caught snatches of their conversation. “Thought you know to stay behind cover.”

 

“– thought the Inquisition was s'posed to have strong people –“

 

“– have to get back. Do we have any other healers besides Solas? – creeps me out –“

 

“– brought him in the first place, Herald –“

 

“Well, I need _her_ , not Solas, so –“

 

Somewhere, buried deep under the pain and her inability to focus, Keira felt a twinge of guilt. And it grew. And _grew_. Because she knew she'd only slowed her friend's progress, and that she was likely just as useful as some sort of lucky charm for Ardinine rather than a fighter. That melancholy thought clung to her as she was carried out of Val Royeaux, even when they managed to get her stabilized with enough potions and after one of Leliana's scouts fetched a mage to heal her.

 

She was not enough. She would never be enough. She was –

 

“Oy, sourpuss, chin up.” Sera, the 'Friend of Red Jenny' who'd led them into the alleyway ambush, took up a bouncing stride next to her. Keira had been trying to ignore...well, everyone, really, but specifically Sera. It hadn't been the elf's fault, but she'd stolen their _breeches_. Not their weapons. As amusing as that had been at the time, Keira could barely move her arm, and likely wouldn't be able to for another week, at best. “What's up with tall, shooty and gorgeous's extra...bit there? Round the back?”

 

Too surprised by the question, Keira found she couldn't _not_ answer. “It's a tail. Her tail.” She paused. “Please don't make a big deal out of it. It's some Qunari secret. They cull the ones who have it in her homeland.”

 

“What, here? Maker that's barbaric, innit?! Wait. Oh. You mean back in Poor Pollen. Hmm. Well, makes watching her leave a lot more interesting than it already is, right?” Her giggle was infectious enough to earn a smirk from Keira, who hummed a halfhearted agreement. “Listen, I know I screwed up. Herald's been goin on about how worried she is about you, yeah? 'Poor little thing, it's all my fault I dragged her into this mess, what does she think about me.' Real torn up about it. So you're helpin' the Inquisition thing right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“Your people need more people, right?”

 

“So long as they want to help and can help.” She gestured to her shoulder and added glumly, “More than I did, at any rate.”

 

“What, are you loony? You helped LOADS back there. I saw what happened, Herald's been too weepy to listen though, Varric's been busy distractin' the Seeker to keep her from chasing me off apparently. But it's like this: you were hangin' back, right? Guy who got all stabby with you was comin' after me, one of his friends shows up, boxes me in. But then Stabby McStabberson sees you, sees an easy target I guess, leaves his buddy to take care of me. Then you go and shoot his buddy, and he goes all mad! Turns out, Stabby Jr was pretty damn close to giving me an extra hole to eat out of. You got him good just before he got the chance!” She grinned wildly at Keira, all mischief and mirth, who felt one of the knots in her gut loosen some. “So all I'm saying is this, you saved my life, got all cut up, so now, I owe you. _We_ owe you.”

 

“Your 'friends,' I take it?”

 

“Yeah, them! So, you talk the Herald into letting me help, or you don't. Either way, a shoulder for a favor. What d'you say?”

 

“Sounds fair enough,” Keira admitted. “You're as good as in. Just...try not to lead us into anymore dark alleys, unless the odds are in our favor.”

 

“Aww, c'mon, y'gotta admit the breeches bit was fun. Heh, bits. D'you get it? Bits. Breeches.” She let out a peal of laughter that ended with a snort, surprising a hoarse bark of laughter out of Keira, until the two were nearly falling over one another in their mirth. “Hey, hey, lookit! She's laughin'! What's that thing people say? 'Laughter's the best cure for getting stabbed?'”

 

“Something like that,” Keira said, grinning. For the moment, at least, she found herself content, and buried everything else.

 

That, plus the still-fresh memory of how offended the Chancellor had been, was enough to keep her spirits level.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will touch more on Keira's back story and try to explore more on Cullen's characterization, and some SEXUAL TENSION IS ESTABLISHED. Sorry if everyone's kind of OOC, I'm doing this by the seat of my pants.
> 
> GedditbcthischapterisalittlebitaboutBREECHES


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